


Atavism

by OneOfThoseThings



Series: Interspecies Compatibility [8]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alien Biology, Alien Cultural Differences, Alien Gender/Sexuality, Explicit Consent, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Interspecies Awkwardness, Interspecies Relationship(s), Porn With Plot, Straight up sex, Telepathic Sex, Telepathic Transference, Telepathy, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-02
Updated: 2020-03-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:01:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22987564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneOfThoseThings/pseuds/OneOfThoseThings
Summary: The Doctor wants another go at connecting human-style. Donna isn't so sure that's a good idea.(Sequel to Synesthesia)
Relationships: Tenth Doctor/Donna Noble
Series: Interspecies Compatibility [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1637608
Comments: 10
Kudos: 133





	1. Part the First

**Author's Note:**

> Atavism (ala Wikipedia): a modification of a biological structure whereby an ancestral trait reappears after having been lost through evolutionary change in previous generations.

Following what the Doctor referred to as the Minor Miscalibration Incident, Donna became a bit skittish about telepathic synthesis… though it took him a while to notice. 

On Corvus VIII, the central tower stretched into the lower atmosphere, resulting in lower gravity and breathtaking views over the golden clouds. They laughed and leaned over the railing and when the wind picked up, Donna said it felt like flying. 

He’d started adjusting his grip so he could spare a hand before he realized she hadn’t actually offered anything and awkwardly re-adjusted his hold on the railing. Donna opened her mouth in his peripheral vision, but closed it again without saying anything. 

He decided to initiate things himself, back in the TARDIS without any extraneous factors. 

“Donna,” he said, casually, “Have you found the hot spring in the arctic room yet? I think you’d like it.” As he understood it, humans were very fond of rapidly changing their temperature. 

Donna gave him a skeptical look. “I thought you said it was filled with monkeys.”

“No, that’s the hot spring in the mountain room― the one with the four-dimensional climbing wall. And I’ve already told you, those monkeys are very well-behaved. For monkeys.”

“If this is heading for you calling me an ape again, I’ll have you know―“

“No, no, no,” he put a hand between her shoulder-blades, guiding her forward. “ _You’re_ the one who brought up monkeys. _I’m_ trying to show you a nice hot spring.”

She grumbled something about a protocol, but allowed herself to be lead down the corridor, shoulders flexing against his hand. 

She stopped grumbling when she actually saw the room, wandering in and peering around with that look of wonder that he’d developed a slightly worrisome attachment to. 

The hot spring was a few meters in, puffing steam into the frigid air. He headed toward it, working the buttons of his jacket loose with quick fingers not yet hampered by the cold. 

“What are you doing?” Donna’s tone brought him up short. He turned to find her staring like couldn’t possibly imagine what his answer was going to be. 

“Er...” He paused with the jacket halfway down his upper arms. What _was_ he doing? “I thought you…” 

He realized, just then, that he had no idea how to ask for something that had been freely offered before, often against his own protests. 

Donna kept staring and he suddenly felt very awkward, standing there with his jacket half off. 

He stiffly pulled the sleeves back into place. “Do you not want me to, er, join you?” He became very aware of an uncomfortable tension gripping the back of his neck.

Donna looked like she’d swallowed something sharp. “No, um...” She switched her grip from her sleeves to her pockets and back again. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

The Doctor focused very hard on not fumbling while re-buttoning. “No. Sure. Right.” He tugged his lapels down. 

Donna just watched him.

He rubbed the fabric of his jacket between a thumb and forefinger. “Have I…er, done something to make you…” He wasn’t quite sure what word to use. She didn’t seem angry or hurt or even irritated “…Uncomfortable?” 

“No!” Donna said, too quickly. “No, it’s just...” She rubbed her arms. “Sorry, do you mind if we don’t hang out in here? It’s bloody freezing.” 

“Course, course.” He backed up, heading for the door, very aware of the space between them. 

They trekked back in silence and it stretched into the corridor as they both paused, not sure where to go. The Doctor blinked at the opposite wall, trying not to think about how tense his neck suddenly felt.

“So,” he said, at the same time Donna said “Well,” and they stumbled into another awkward silence. 

The TARDIS twittered, and flipped open a panel by Donna’s feet. “Just an expression,” she muttered under her breath, kicking it closed. “Maybe we should just go out again,” she said, a bit louder than necessary. “You pick a destination. I’ll just change and meet you at the console.” 

“Donna,” he said, slowly. “I’m sorry if I behaved strangely the other day. I wasn’t counting on the transference being so… effective. I didn’t mean to scare you. But I wouldn’t have hurt you! If you could just―“

Donna cut him off with a squawk. “I know you wouldn’t have hurt me!”

He frowned. “Then what― what’s wrong?” 

“Nothing!” Donna said, still too quickly. She shoved away from the wall, stalking to a random door and throwing it open. Two large hog-like creatures with little gossamer wings lifted their heads curiously at the sound. She slammed the door shut again and reached for the next one. 

The lounge appeared on the other side and she disappeared within. 

The Doctor followed at what seemed like a very long distance. 


	2. Part the Second

Donna walked past two couches and a love seat to wedge herself into a high-backed chair. The Doctor sat stiffly on the nearby couch. 

“If you don’t want to engage in telepathic synthesis any more, you’re under no obligation to continue,” he said, voice carefully neutral. 

Donna gave him a guilty look through her fringe, which had grown quite long now that he was noticing. “It’s not that I don’t want to… I know it’s― I think I know what it means to you. And I don’t mind doing it! But that last time you― You scared me to death!” She clenched her teeth, jaw twitching.

With an unpleasant jolt, he remembered that she’d said something like when she turned down traveling with him the first time. “I―“

“It looked like I hurt you!” she said, barreling ahead. “I don’t want to _hurt_ you!” 

The Doctor cocked his head. “That wasn’t your fault. If it was anyone’s fault, it was mine. And I’m fine! Look at me, I’m fine!” He flapped his arms out a bit, like maybe she just hadn’t noticed. 

Donna wrapped her arms around herself, hands fisted in her sleeves. “You didn’t _look_ fine! You looked like you were going to unravel!” 

He slowly put his arms down. “Donna, it’s fine. Really! I’m fine! You don’t have to worry about it.” 

“But I _am_ worried about it!” She certainly _looked_ worried about it. “And the whole point is that you get some version of what I’m feeling or thinking or whatever! And every time I think about offering now, I’m terrified! Do you remember what happened when you got in my head during that scary movie?? You couldn’t stop shaking for days!” 

He did, in fact, remember that very well. “Right, but I got over that. And we learned that was not, in fact, a good time to connect. But _you_ were fine! You kept trying to use me as a back massager!” 

Donna was already shaking her head. “But it’s not the same― That was ‘ _fun’_ scared! This is ‘ _scared’_ scared! I don’t want to find out what you’ll do with ‘ _scared’_ scared!” 

He tried to piece that apart. “What are you scared of _now_?” 

“I’m scared I’m going to bloody break you!” she said, voice jumping up. 

He blinked. “Oh. Don’t be.”

“Yeah that’s not actually how worrying works, mate!” 

“Donna,” he tried to making calming gestures, “Donna, you’re not going _break_ me. I’m not a… breakable type of thing. Over 900 years old, remember? Time Lord? Any of that ringing any bells?” 

Donna waved her hands around violently. “Oh, like you know! You didn’t even know you could do any of this with humans!” She yanked her feet up onto the chair and shoved herself back as far as possible. 

“Donna,” he said, very slowly, “It’s… very nice of you to worry, but you’re not going to hurt me. I’m not― that’s not―“ He couldn’t think of a way to explain without implying what a very real threat he was to her by contrast. “It’s really _not_ a problem.” 

“Well, it’s a problem for me!” she snapped. “I don’t care what you say. You’re wrong about things all the time! All kinds of things! Mostly about things that end up with you almost being killed!” 

“Donnn-nnaaa,” he whined. 

“No!” she snapped. 

He hesitated. “If I… admit something… will you hear me out?”

She flicked a look up at him, and then nodded once, curtly. 

“The, er, state you shared with me. The last time… I wasn’t expecting it.” She started to chime in, but he cut her off, continuing. “I know you know― but I’m saying― I didn’t see it coming. And then when I was… affected… I couldn’t exactly trust myself to make rational choices, could I? Bit like operating under the influence.” She opened her mouth again, but he continued, “The thing is, now that I’m _not_ under the influence, I _can_ think clearly, and I, well… I… I think I’d like to do that again. On purpose. If you’d let me.” At her wide-eyed, disbelieving stare, he forced himself to add, “It felt… good. Surprisingly good.” 

Donna blinked at him, still curled in on herself like a defensive armadillo. “You what?”

He traced one thread along the arm of the couch. “I liked it. I’d like to try it again. If you’d be willing, I’d like to… go with it. With you. If you’d be willing.”

Donna’s blinking turned to gawping. “You _what_?”

He felt a new feeling creep up the back of his neck, replacing the fear with something itchy and nervous. He rubbed his hand over it, scratching. “Couldn’t trust myself to ask at the time, could I?”

Donna gaped some more. “You― Are you _sure_? It looked like it _hurt_ you!”

He coughed, scratching harder. “Yes, well. It wasn’t very pleasant to fight that urge. As it turns out.”

She looked him up and down several times, trying to assess. “You’re not lying to me… are you? If you’re lying to me to― Are you lying to get me into bed? I thought you were asexual!!” 

He clenched his teeth together. “Reproductively. Not as an orientation. And no, I’m not lying to you to get you into bed. Not to put too fine a point on this, but I’ve been getting you into bed quite successfully this far. Why would I suddenly need to start lying?” 

She looked him up and down again, more slowly. “Are you _sure_?”

His jaw hurt from clenching, but he worked it open just enough to manage “Yes. Very sure.” He shifted, making room on the couch. 

Donna goggled. “What, you want to do it _right now_?”

He entirely failed to see any problem with that. “What, are you too busy? Should we sync diaries instead?” 

She didn’t seem to even register that response. “On the _couch_?”

He was tempted to remind her that when they’d first engaged in telepathic synthesis she’d effectively cornered him on the jumpseat, but he suspected that might to lead to more of an argument. “Would you prefer a bed?”

Donna still had her feet up on the chair with her, but started to look much less clenched at least. “Be honest, is this your first time?”

He shrugged. “Again. I’m several centuries old. And I wasn’t _always_ the last of my kind. I’ve dabbled.”

She unfolded enough to put her feet down. “If that’s what you call it, clearly you weren’t doing it right. I’m not popping your cherry on a damn couch.” 

The Doctor considered pointing out that this was only considered important by her cultural standards, but he decided that was probably not the optimal way to make this request. He stood up, offering a hand. “Bedroom, then?” 

Donna looked at his hand, then at his face, then looked him up and down, then went back to his hand, and finally back to his face. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” he said, then paused. “Is this all right? You can say no. Obviously.” 

She was looking at his face, just a little too hard. “Let me take a shower. You take one too.”

He considered reminding her, again, that he didn’t actually secrete anything and therefore didn’t require regular showers, but he was very committed to not arguing at the moment. “Fine. Meet in your room in 20?”

“Make it an hour,” she said, getting up, “And brush your teeth this time!” 


	3. Part the Third

One hour, one unnecessary shower, and one pointless tooth-brushing later, the Doctor knocked on Donna’s door. She opened it and immediately asked “Why are you wearing a suit?” 

He looked down at himself, wondering how that could possibly be a surprise. “What else would I be wearing? Ceremonial robes?” 

Donna was, in fact, wearing a violet toweling robe, but he suspected it wasn’t actually ceremonial by most standards. “Oh, just get in here.” 

He came in, rubbing absently at the back of his head. 

Donna circled around, considering. “So how do you want to do this?” 

“Well...” He realized his hand was still scratching the back of his head and forced it down. “It makes sense to start with you. Once you’re ready, I can make the connection and er, join in for the second round. If that’s all right.” 

She nodded in the way that meant she was only half paying attention. “OK, what are we talking about for that second part? Which bases are we rounding?” 

He squinted, tilting his head. “What?” 

Donna shrugged. “Hands? Mouths? Full body? What are we talking?” 

He shrugged right back. “Whatever you’re comfortable with.” 

Surprisingly, that brought her up short. “Oh no, that’s not how we’re playing this. You’re going to have to be very clear here. Are you even sure you _can_ get it up?” 

He was 90% sure, but he wasn’t stupid enough to give her that estimate. “I don’t have automatic responses to stimuli, but I can choose to enable those reactions.” 

She narrowed her eyes at him.

“I can get aroused,” he clarified.

She spread her hands out in a short arc. “Let’s see it then.” 

He rolled his eyes, “It’s not a magic switch. It’s more like, as sensations come in I’ll route them a bit differently.” 

She rolled her eyes right back. “Fine, but if at any point you want to stop, just say so and we’ll stop.” 

“Why are you saying that like that’s not always true,” he frowned. “You _do_ know that’s always true, don’t you?”

“Listen, just―“ She rubbed her forehead. “I’m trying to be _clear_ here.”

“It’s going worse than usual,” he said, a little impressed that it _could_ get worse. 

“Are you trying to turn this ‘yes’ into a ‘no?’ Because you’re heading the right way for a smack and a night on your own.”

He scratched at a sideburn. “If you don’t want to do this you can just say so. You don’t have to pick a fight.” 

“Yeah, and leave you on your own until you get desperate enough to pick up some space hooker. Great plan,” Donna mumbled to herself. 

A new, unpleasant possibility occurred to him. “Are you― Am I making you feel obligated?” He felt a bit sick at the thought.

Donna didn’t answer right away and he felt a bit sicker. 

“Course I am,” he said. “I shouldn’t have asked.” He backed up heading for the door. “I’ll― How about a new trip after all? One of those beaches you’re always on about, what do you say?” 

Donna caught his sleeve. “Doctor…”

He flinched. No nickname. A bad sign. “I shouldn’t have asked. Can we just forget I asked? Let’s go see about that beach. I remember one in particular had turquoise sand―“

“Doctor,” Donna repeated, louder. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, “Let’s just―“ Donna suddenly yanked on his arm just as he stepped, jerking him around. 

“Just shut up,” she said, grabbing him by the back of the head, tugging him down so she could press her mouth to his. 


	4. Part the Fourth (NSFW)

Donna seemed more active than usual, and more attentive, like she was trying to read his reactions. 

The Doctor wasn’t sure how to react to _that_ , and thinking about it just felt like thinking too hard about a homeostatic mechanism, so he just focused on his own hands. He dropped one down to tug the sash free on her robe. When he moved to push the robe off entirely, she blocked his way, shoving his jacket back off his shoulders, and when he moved to take the jacket the rest of the way off she set to unbuttoning his shirt. As soon as he shrugged the shirt off, her hands dropped to his trousers, curling just under the waistband.

The insistent press of lips eased off, and she stroked the skin below his navel with the back of two knuckles. “Still all right?” 

He nodded, not entirely backing off the kiss so the motion nudged her face up and down with his. 

She worked his flies open and eased the fabric down with a tickling touch that traced his pelvis. He kicked the trousers the rest of the way off, toeing his shoes off along with them. Donna let her robe drop the rest of the way, immediately pressing back in. 

She slotted herself against him, making new little movements as she investigated the new sensations of skin-on-skin. One hand dropped to his back, the other to his hip, smoothing along the underlying skeletal structure.She shifted her weight, rubbing one leg against his, none-too-subtly exploring the new access. 

He could feel the curiosity radiating off of her. He broke the kiss, leaning back far enough to focus. “You can just have a look. If you keep trying so hard to be subtle you’ll give yourself a headache and neither one of us wants to deal with that.” 

She looked slightly embarrassed, but much too curious to let that put her off. When he stepped back she looked him over like she’d never seen another humanoid figure before and might never see another one ever again. 

“What’s the 10%?” she asked. 

He squinted at her. “What?”

She circled around him, looking like she’d really like a magnifying glass. “When we talked about the differences between Time Lords and humans you said there was a 60% overall overlap, 75% for reproductive systems, 90% for genitalia.”

He cocked his head. “How _do_ you decide what to remember? And how did _that_ make the cut?” 

She poked around his ribcage, ignoring that. “Looks pretty similar. So, what’s the difference?” 

He counted off on his fingers, “Binary vascular system, respiratory bypass, a couple more ribs, several more senses― how you lot get by with as few senses as you do, I’ll never know―“

“Ok, ok, let’s get back to the relevant bits― what’s the 10%?” Donna eyed his ‘bits’ like the answer might involve some form of explosive for all she knew. 

“Ah, that’s not actually relevant here.” At her confused look, he gestured between their chests. “It’s regarding females, not males. Time Ladies haven’t needed mammary glands for generations. So they rarely get as developed as yours.” 

Donna looked down at herself like she’d forgotten what she looked like. “Huh. Probably helps with conversations, that.” She resumed her unfettered staring. “So everything else works the same? You’re not going to sprout tentacles or spines or anything, right?” 

He rolled his eyes. “Obviously not! It’s been months since you started traveling with me! Wouldn’t you have noticed if I had tentacles?”

She looked him up and down. “Not a lot of places to hide them…” She pressed a warm hand against his ribcage, estimating the span between her fingers. 

He sighed, expanding under her palm, and that seemed to simultaneously distract and refocus her. “Right,” she shifted her grip to something a bit less clinical, though still curious, “The TARDIS already showed me the 51st century birth control flashbulb, so I’m good on that front. Do we need condoms?” 

He shook his head. “Species barrier. You wouldn’t need the flashbulb either, but I assume you’re misusing it for the menstrual regulation anyway.” 

She nodded, still peering around. “No more monthlies _and_ no surprises? The 51st century really has its act together. We should go there sometime. I wonder what else they’ve worked out by then.” 

He grimaced a little at the thought of Donna in the sea of humanity that produced Jack Harkness, but she was moving on to the next thought, pulling him forward by the wrist. “This’ll be easier if I don’t have to crane my neck the whole time,” she said before unceremoniously shoving him onto the bed. 

“Donna!” he yelped, sprawling a bit. 

She laughed, following him at a much more controlled rate of descent, one knee on either side of his. “Guess none of those ‘extra special senses’ were good for balance eh?” Without waiting for an answer, she bent her head and started mouthing along the line of his jaw. 

It was a slightly strange sensation― Not unpleasant, but certainly not as exciting as she seemed to find it. She swiped her tongue across his pulse point, and that… wasn’t terrible. He tilted his head just enough to give her better access and felt her smile against his skin, before swiping again.

For no apparent reason, her pheromones spiked up a notch. Which reminded him that he was actually supposed to be helping that along. Donna didn’t seem interested in moving off of him so he had to work with a more limited range of motion, but he wasn’t exactly tied down. 

He shuttered that thought as soon as he’d had it, worried Donna might somehow sense it and try talking him into it. One thing at a time. 

He carefully bent the knee between her legs, nudging her higher and more within reach. She startled, and then immediately became very interested in investigating the new sensation of rubbing against his leg instead of his trousers. He left her to that, smoothing his hands over her back and sides.

She shifted her weight, and in the momentary imbalance, he rolled and pinned her under him. Suddenly feeling very curious to find out what all the fuss was about, and realizing he was just a few choice moves away from figuring it out, he shifted her up, sliding himself down and pressing his tongue between her folds. 

Donna startled, but sounded pleased. She was on a hair trigger lately, and within minutes was bucking and writhing. “Can― can you reach from there?” 

He took a moment to decide he could, but he wasn’t sure he could focus as well in this position.

He swapped his hand for his mouth, with a few particularly rigorous parting licks to make up for it. She cursed a bit, but clutched him closer as soon as he was back in reach. 

Without hesitating, she caught his free hand, pulling it to her temple.


	5. Part the Fifth (Also NSFW)

Donna’s mind yanked the Doctor in, and it was like standing in a lightning storm in iron boots. Her mind whirled, twisting and knotting. Her body writhed under his, an echo trapped in three dimensions. 

He could feel the instinctive search for contact broiling through every line, through every wave, through every plane. He could taste it like it was burning down his own throat, coating his insides like copper ore. 

In the eye of the rolling storm, he could feel her reaching and deep within himself, something long dormant fluttered open, answering. 

He pressed his mouth to hers, messily and misaligned, and pleasure sparked bright, blinding white.

~*~

When he opened his eyes, his breathing was nearly indistinguishable from hers. Pure, raw sensation sang in his ears and surged through his veins like wildfire. 

Donna was still clenching around his fingers, but he was newly aware of it, like he hadn’t actually noticed before. 

He kept stroking, feeling her increasingly agitated movements like a bright light moving closer.

She pressed herself against him and every point of contact burned like he hadn’t felt warmth in so long he could no longer process it. Her hands clutched at his back and shoulders and each fingertip pierced his skin in the most amazing way. 

“All right?” she asked, sounding out of breath and very far away. He realized he’d started making noises in the back of his throat. 

He nodded, forcing his head up and down, and then became thoroughly distracted by the slide of her jawline against his cheek when he repeated the movement. He melted into the contact, every centimeter of her skin dragging against his cheekbone lighting flashbulbs behind his eyes. At the end of the arch his mouth pressed into the skin below her ear and she shuddered with her whole body, clenching around his fingers like a collapsing star. 

He licked at the damp skin of her neck, tasting fireworks and promises. 

Donna came down, shoving him back and rolling on top of him before he could fully register the shock of disconnection. His fingers were suddenly freezing and he scrabbled for purchase against her warm skin. 

She groaned, gasping something unintelligible and bowed forward, hair tickling across his chest. He choked on a request for more or less or _something_ , and she ducked her head, licking the skin over his right pectoral. 

He nearly dislodged her, bucking wildly, but she pinned him by the hips and ducked again, flattening her tongue so that the edge of it brushed his areola. 

Her hips stuttered, jerking, and he realized he could feel the warmth pooling between her legs with an entirely new array of senses. He hardened, seeking, and Donna rubbed against him so deliciously he could taste it in the back of his throat like spiced chocolate. 

She laughed against his skin, puffing hot air against the over sensitized nerves. “Bit easy,” she breathed, licking the other nipple and adding a quick nip that nearly sent both of them flying. 

He choked on a response, hearing his own needy, desperate sounds like they were coming from someone else, somewhere nearby but completely out of the realm of his control. 

“Please,” the stranger whimpered. 

Donna groaned heartily, and shifted. He writhed under her, following as best he could, and she had to hook her feet around his knees to keep him pinned. She twisted, working one hand between them and her clever, burning fingers wrapped around him, guiding him inside. 

“Hot!” he gasped, choking. And it was― so hot it should have hurt. But the sensation maxed out just before the brink of pain, igniting nerves and burning synapses. He surged up, chasing the edges, seeking whatever seemed to be just out of reach. 

Donna rode the wave, arching her back and grinding down, undulating like a snake on fire. His hands clutched at her sides, stroking up and down in counterpoint. Her own hands were busy on his chest, clutching and gentling in turns, digging hard enough to bruise and then slipping to new purchase, igniting nerves. 

She bent forward, bracing herself and gasped an invitation into his ear. 

He clapped his hands to her contact points, immediately sinking in. 

~*~

Her mind raged like a hurricane on a cosmic scale. The endless knots of urges and needs writhed, bleeding infinite colors.

Donna sank down onto him, and her mind bloomed open, the knots loosening just enough to drag him deeper. 

She rose up and rocked down, the swirling vortex of her mind bending in and out in tandem. 

The red hues deepened, bleeding through, and then snapped back, sparking bright, blinding white. 

He distantly felt his respiratory bypass kick in as he struggled, fighting the riptide that tried to drag him back. 

He felt Donna’s hands slip forward, and her fingers caught at his temples. 

The current shifted, dragging him deeper with twice as much force. He plunged down to find his own hallowed halls flexing through eleven dimensions. 

In the surreal calm where lightning fractured in endless prisms, there was a singular essence at the very center― Donna Noble, in her purest form.

She flickered, bright and bold and dark and scared― A single flame against the endless night. 

Suddenly and all at once, the layers collapsed in. The prisms folded, swallowing dimensions and the lightning knotted itself closed once more.


	6. Part the Sixth

The Doctor opened his eyes and it was all simultaneously too much and not enough. 

Donna collapsed next to him, breathing like she’d only just remembered how. 

He pulled in air, trying to re-engage his lungs, and for several moments they just lay there, panting in out-of-sync unison. 

It took him a minute to realize her breaths had an odd catch, and it took him several more moments to realize it was getting worse instead of better. 

He managed to roll his head to look at her, and took another few heartsbeats to recognize the look on her face.

She looked _terrified_.

“Donna,” he managed, sounding out of breath and far away, “Are you―“

She jerked back, folding in on herself. “I need a minute.” 

After one minute and 47 seconds, her breathing still hadn’t evened out. 

“Are you all right?” he tried again. 

She flinched at the sound of his voice, pressing herself into the mattress. “I need―“ Her headboard flipped open, dropping two dressing gowns onto the bed. She snatched one up, pulling it tight around herself. “I need another minute.” She flattened herself against the foot of the bed, pulling her knees into her chest.

He sat up as slowly and carefully as he could. “Can I help?”

She made a strange hysterical sound that might have once been a laugh. “Probably, but I don’t want to find out how!” 

Moving very slowly, he pulled on his own dressing gown. “Donna?” He wasn’t quite sure what to ask. 

Her eyes snapped to his, and for just a moment, he could have sworn he saw the Untempered Schism reflected back. 

She blinked and it was gone, her features twisting. “Oh my God,” she said, staring like she was seeing him for the first time and whatever she saw, it wasn’t the human-friendly veneer he'd carefully crafted over the years. “You’re…”

He flinched, not wanting to hear the end of that revelation, and her expression collapsed in on itself. She caught the hand extended toward her and yanked, snatching him into an embrace like she was the last fraying tether keeping him from floating off into the void. 

He held her back embarrassingly tightly, and tried not to notice the way she shook under his grip. 

“It’s okay,” she said, nonsensically, and he realized he was shaking too. 


End file.
